


The Potters' Pool Party

by flammable_grimm_pitch



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Anoxic brain injury, Awkward Flirting, Divorced Astoria Greengrass & Draco Malfoy, Divorced Harry Potter & Ginny Weasley, M/M, Pool Party, Single Parent Draco Malfoy, Summer Vacation, Water Balloon Fights, acquired cerebral palsy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:28:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26493385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flammable_grimm_pitch/pseuds/flammable_grimm_pitch
Summary: When 12-year-old Scorpius is invited to a pool party, worried father Draco insists on tagging along for the sake of safety. By the time Draco realizes whose family is hosting, it's too late for him to back out.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy & Scorpius Malfoy, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Former Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Scorpius Malfoy & Albus Severus Potter
Comments: 17
Kudos: 186
Collections: HP Suds Fest 2020





	The Potters' Pool Party

**Author's Note:**

  * For [crimsonheadache](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crimsonheadache/gifts).



> Thanks so much to aizawa-is-a-cat for being my beta reader - your time and energy is so appreciated!
> 
>  **TW:** A near-drowning incident resulting in lifelong injury (acquired cerebral palsy) is mentioned in this story, but there is no graphic description of the event.

On a Saturday afternoon before the last week of school for the year, Draco Malfoy and his only son were sat in the kitchen of their flat, each absorbed in their own task. As he set his teacup down on the counter, a colourful piece of cardstock tucked beneath the bills he had yet to file caught his attention. He grabbed the corner of the paper and pulled it out, tilting his head back so as to read the small print through the readers perched on the end of his nose. _An invitation!_

“A pool party, eh?” Draco Malfoy asked, glancing up from the card to look at his son. “Since when did you like pool parties?”

“Since my friend invited me,” Scorpius shrugged, taking a momentary break from his homework. “Mother said she could drop me off after physical therapy, but it’s technically on your weekend, so it’s your decision.” 

Draco crossed the room to where their calendar hung on the wall and had a look at their plans for that weekend. Scorpius was a busy kid, even in summer, but it looked as though the only event scheduled for the date of the party was his 1:00 appointment at the clinic. The invitation said that guests could begin arriving at 1:30, but the Malfoys tended towards ‘fashionably late’ appearances anyways. 

“I didn’t think you cared much for swimming,” he frowned. Draco was probably just projecting his own distaste for the activity, but he couldn’t imagine enjoying an afternoon being splashed by a pool full of screaming children. 

“No, Papa, I don’t _hate_ it,” Scorpius said, rolling his eyes while his father’s back was turned. “I just don’t do it very often; Mother’s pool is always much too cold.” 

“Hmm,” Draco responded, furrowing his brow as he read over the details of the party. “And who’s hosting this party again? Do I know their parents?” 

“I think a few families are hosting, actually,” Scorpius deflected, expertly avoiding his father’s question. “It’s a ‘school’s out’, beginning of summer sort of party. There’s supposed to be a barbecue, some water games, and swimming, of course. Everyone in my year was invited.” 

Scorpius attended the same small school his father had, so if all the kids his age were attending this party, it was more than likely that Draco would know some of the other parents. He hadn’t been particularly well liked in his time as a student, but he had grown up to become a successful business owner, and had redeemed himself in the eyes of most of his old classmates. 

“I see. It says here at the bottom that parents are welcome to stay for ‘food and fun’,” Draco read out loud. “It would probably be best if I came along, don’t you think, Scorp? If there are supposed to be many children attending, I don’t trust that there will be enough adults to supervise the pool properly.” 

“Aw, Papa, really?” Scorpius whined, his face falling. “Do you have to? No one else’s parents will...” 

“Even more reason for me to come, then,” Draco insisted. “Your friends might not think it’s ‘cool’ if I’m there, but I’d feel much more comfortable if I were able to keep an eye on you.” 

“Papa, I’m much better now than I used to be,” Scorpius complained loudly. “Miriam said that as long as I’m not pushing myself too hard, and my arm isn’t too sore, I’m _fine_ to try swimming.” 

“I’m sure you’re very capable, Scorpius,” Draco sighed, scratching at his scalp as he attempted to formulate a legitimate reason – maybe even a decent excuse – to keep his son from attending this party. “I just worry, and it’s because I love you.” 

“Well, stop it, will you?” Scorpius shouted, slamming his pencil down on the table. His father jumped, startled by the sound. “You always tell me I can do whatever I put my mind to, and to not let my arm make me feel weak, but that’s exactly what you’re doing: making me feel like I can’t do anything on my own!” The boy rarely raised his voice, so the fact that he was doing so now made Draco realize just how much he had disappointed his son with his overprotectiveness. 

“I _can_ swim, Papa,” Scorpius seethed, vehemently sure of his abilities, “So quit worrying. I’m 12 years old – I’m not going to die if I go to a party!” The boy pushed his chair back from the table and took off towards his bedroom, resolutely slamming the door behind him. 

“Well, shit,” Draco murmured, setting the party invitation down to free up his hands. He pressed his fingers into his temples and rubbed them in small, circular motions, as if it might change the reality that his son hated his guts at the moment. This whole situation was making him feel so useless as a parent that he was seriously considering giving his mother a call to ask for advice. When it came to dramatic outbursts and the Malfoy family, it was clear that the apple didn’t fall far from the tree. 

* * * * * 

Eight years prior, on a family trip to the south of France, Astoria had been in charge of watching 4-year-old Scorpius splash around in the sea while Draco was setting up their picnic lunch at a nearby table. His (now ex-) wife had insisted that she’d “turned away for just a moment”. However long Astoria had been distracted, it was long enough for a large wave to knock Scorpius over and suck him out into water far too deep and rough for a child to swim in safely. 

The child had very nearly drowned, and ended up hospitalized for nearly a month with a brain injury due to oxygen deprivation and severe pneumonia from all the water he had inhaled. The pneumonia had cleared up after a week, but made Scorpius more susceptible to lung infections. The boy was also diagnosed with acquired cerebral palsy* when it was discovered that the muscles in Scorpius’ right arm had started contracting randomly, causing abnormal movement of his elbow, wrist, and fingers. 

Scorpius had been attending regular physical therapy sessions for years, which helped to strengthen the muscles in his right arm and hand, as well as make him able to hold and utilize objects such as a pencil or a fork. On good days, he felt confident that he could take part in school activities with barely any adaptation. On bad days, when the muscle tone in his arm and hand was too loose, he relied on his other hand to complete tasks. If his muscles were too tight, he often found himself in pain, which could be relieved somewhat by having someone massage or apply a heating pad to the offending muscles. 

As one might imagine, the mercurial nature of Scorpius’ arms and the memory of his near-drowning set Draco on edge at the thought of sending his son off to a pool party. Even just _thinking_ about Scorpius getting into the water brought the memory of the accident in France rushing back, made his heart race. 

Scorpius’ accident had also served as the final straw for Draco in regard to his marriage. Astoria always seemed too busy with her own life and interests (those of a wealthy socialite) to pay attention to the wellbeing of her husband and child. When Draco had served her divorce papers she was more than happy to give him primary custody of their son in exchange for visits every other weekend, and he was more than happy to raise his son without her negative influence. 

* * * * * 

“I…Scorp, you know I want to say yes,” Draco spoke through his son’s bedroom door, hoping the boy was actually listening, and didn’t have his headphones in or something. “I’m sure everything will be fine at this party, and that nothing will go wrong. I’ll stick with the other adults and leave you to spend time with your friends, alright? You probably won’t even notice that I’m there.” 

There was no response for a full minute. Draco leaned his head against the doorframe and sighed for what must have been the hundredth time that day, and it was barely past noon, for snakes’ sake. Eventually, though, a pair of socked feet padded across the hardwood floor of the room, and the door opened just enough for one bright blue eye to peer out into the hall. 

“Fine, you can come,” Scorpius huffed, knowing that this was the only way he was actually going to be able to attend. “But you _have_ to wear normal clothes – shorts and sandals, please, so you’ll look like the other parents – and _no_ flirting with anyone’s dad, _even_ if they’re single. _Especially_ if they’re single!” 

“I resent that statement, Scorpius Hyperion.” Draco scowled, pointing a finger in what little of the boy’s face he could see. “While I will admit to being overdressed at times—” 

_“At times?”_ Scorpius snorted, raising a pale eyebrow. 

“Frequently,” Draco conceded, rolling his eyes, “But I have _never_ made advances toward any of your classmates’ parents, male or otherwise. I’d like to think I’m a little classier than that.” In reality, he had barely managed to hold up a conversation with any of the parents at Scorpius’ school. 

“Whatever, Papa,” Scorpius said, opening the door so that he could step out into the hall and throw his arms around Draco’s waist. “Just don’t _look_ weird, and don’t _act_ weird. That’s all I’m asking.” 

* * * * * 

Draco arrived at the address listed on the party’s invitation exactly 45 minutes “late”. Astoria had agreed to drop Scorpius off after his appointment, but hadn’t yet texted to say they had arrived. Clutching a bowl of salad he had made that morning and a bottle of red, he approached the stately house with his head held high – or, as high as he could hold it when one was dressed in such hideous shoes. Ugh; flip-flops were the bane of Draco’s existence, but he hadn’t been about to wear Velcro-strapped grandpa sandals. 

As he made his way up a smoothly paved sidewalk, Draco saw that the gate to the left of the house was wide open, providing access to the back garden. Knocking on the front door would be useless if no one was actually in the house. He took a deep breath to calm his nerves, and then strode confidently towards the sounds of shrieking children and splashing water. 

If Draco was being honest, he had thought once or twice about the possibility that Potter or his children might be at this party. They attended the same school as Scorpius and presumably lived somewhere within or just outside of town. Scorpius had made friends with young Albus Potter, who was in his class. It never occurred to Draco, however, that Potter might be the one _hosting_ this pool party. 

Now, Draco found himself confronted by the man who had been his nemesis (for lack of a better word) their entire time at school. They had bumped into each other on occasion in the years since leaving school, but the two hadn’t had an honest-to-god conversation in probably 15 years. Potter was dressed casually in khaki cargo shorts and a vest top advertising his wife’s football club, with a pair of sunglasses perched atop his head. He hadn’t shaved in a few days, and his hair was just as wild as Draco remembered it – sticking up in all directions in loose, black waves. 

“Those sunnies aren’t going to do you much good up there, Potter,” Draco commented before he could stop himself. Harry looked up from the barbecue where he was flipping hamburgers, and a bright smile lit up his face. 

“Malfoy! Glad you could make it out,” he greeted him, setting down his metal spatula to shake Draco’s hand. “Albie was really hoping Scorpius would be able to come today. He should be here any minute now, I’m sure – when he was over earlier in the week, he mentioned that Astoria would drop him off after his appointment. Welcome here.” 

“Uh…yes, thanks,” Draco nodded, presenting the salad and wine he had brought. “Where shall I put this?” 

“Oh, you brought something to share?” Harry asked, taking the wooden bowl from Draco and peering through the cellophane. “Brilliant, I’ll just pop it in the fridge for now so it’ll keep.” A lanky ginger man, undoubtedly a Weasley, took over at the barbecue, and Draco found himself following Potter into the house. 

“Beautiful place you’ve got,” was all Draco could think to say about the house – and he meant it. 

It was certainly not his style; the flat he and Scorpius lived in was minimalist and modern, with sleek furniture and shiny chrome appliances. Potter’s house was bursting with colour and texture, featuring bright walls and eclectic decor. Draco found comfort in the peace and order of his home, but could also see the merit in a warm, cozy space where children could play without fear of breaking things or making a mess. He understood now why Scorpius preferred hanging out at Albus’ after school instead of at their flat. 

“Thanks,” Harry smiled appreciatively. “We have this place, and then a flat in town where Gin and I take turns staying while the other is here with the kids. We thought it would be best to give them a stable home environment instead of making them go back and forth. In the divorce,” he added, seeing the blank look on Draco’s face. 

“I hadn’t realized that you and Weas—Ginevra,” Draco corrected, “Had separated. I’m sorry to hear that.” 

And he was, truly. Scorpius had been young, but Draco and Astoria’s split had still been difficult for the boy. Potter’s children were all in school now, and would remember what it was like when their parents were together. That would make for an even more challenging dynamic, Draco imagined. 

“It was a long time coming,” Harry said, waving him off as he pulled open the door of the fridge. “Once the kids were old enough, we were able to agree that we both deserved a chance to be ourselves, even if we couldn’t do that together. Papers were finalized about six months ago, but we’ve been living separately for nearly two years.” 

“I wish all separations could be so amicable,” Draco mused. “How have your children been managing?” 

“Oh, they’re doing great,” Harry said, very sure of his answer. “They were very understanding when we explained the situation, and we were able to have a bit of a laugh about it all in the end.” 

“I…I’m sorry, I think I must have missed something,” Draco apologized, his brows drawing together in confusion. “Having a laugh over…your divorce?” 

“Oh, Ginny and I are both gay,” Harry explained with an amused snort. “I think we both had our suspicions early in our marriage, but we didn’t really talk about it until a few years back. She’s dating a teammate from her footie club now. It’s been all over the tabloids; I’m surprised you haven’t heard about it.” 

“Oh, you know,” Draco demurred, “I try to avoid the gossip columns. I’m more interested in the science and tech news – tends to be a bit more substantial than whatever bollocks they’ve got to say about ‘it’ boys and their love lives.” 

“Right, of course,” Harry nodded, sensing that it might be time to change the subject. He gestured towards the stools arranged around the island in the centre of his kitchen, offering Draco a seat. “Speaking of science and tech, how has business been for you lately? Scorp has shared a bit about what your company does, but you know how kids are – they only care so much about what mum and dad do for work.” Setting both arms on the countertop of the island, Harry leaned towards Draco with interest. 

Draco regarded Harry with surprise. He hadn’t expected the man before him to have any interest in his life, other than what they had in common – their children. But here Potter was, regarding him with the same inquisitive green eyes that had been appearing – unwarranted, but not to his displeasure – in Draco’s dreams for the better part of two decades. 

“Erm—well, I suppose business has been good,” Draco said, considering what he might share about his company. “As Scorpius might have said, my company manufactures pharmaceutical products. When one of the large pharmaceutical companies puts out a new medication, they usually hold a patent on that product for 10 to 20 years, and can therefore determine the cost to consumers. Our company researches, tests, and manufactures generic versions of those medications after their patents expire so that they are available at a more reasonable cost to consumers, which is important because some of these medications are life-saving for the people who take them.” 

“Sounds like your company does incredibly important work,” Harry acknowledged, impressed by Draco’s eloquent description. “And you’re the CEO of the company?” 

“Oh, heavens no,” Draco scoffed at the incorrect assumption. “I’d be a miserable CEO. I founded the company, yes, and hold a significant portion of the shares in it, but I prefer the chemical research side of things. Management of finances and operations was my father’s idea of success, and though I may have agreed with him about that when I was younger, I’ve come to realize that my strengths lie elsewhere.” 

That was probably the subtlest way Draco could have renounced his father’s snobbish, capitalist (and frankly classist) views on what made a person’s life valuable, but Harry picked up on it. 

“Good for you,” the dark-haired man said, smiling sincerely. “You always were top of our class in chemistry, so it only makes sense that you chose to work in that field.” 

“And yourself?” Draco inquired, eager to shift the spotlight off of his own life. “What are you up to these days, besides chasing after three kids?” 

“I’m in my 10th year teaching,” Harry answered, his face lighting up just thinking about his job. “There was a position that opened up at the kids’ school two years ago and I considered applying, but I love my job at the juvenile detention centre too much to leave.” 

“Juvenile detention,” Draco repeated, raising his eyebrows. How distinctly un-Potter-like – or was it? “There must be a story behind that.” 

“Well, you might not know, but I was raised by my aunt and uncle after my parents died,” Harry explained, taking a deep breath as he thought back on his dour childhood, “And that I had a rough go of things in my teen years. I was angry all the time about…everything, I guess, and I had some run-ins with police on several occasions, usually because I got into fights with kids from the state schools around where I lived.” 

“You, _Saint Potter_ , got into street fights?” Draco repeated, his mouth gaping in disbelief. “I…I never would have thought.” The idea of Potter, who had easily been the most likeable and popular boy at school, being a juvenile delinquent was hard to fathom. When he thought back on it, Potter had often been afflicted by a black eye or a split lip, but Draco had just assumed all the bruises and broken bones to be a direct result of the man’s enthusiastic enjoyment of rugby and other contact sports. 

“Well, I didn’t really want to talk about it back then,” Harry said with a shrug. He didn’t seem particularly interested in discussing it now, either. “Anyway, a lot of the kids who I work with are in similar positions, where they live in foster care homes, or with relatives other than their parents and don’t have the support and guidance they need to help keep them on track in school, or to keep them off the streets and out of gangs. Because I’ve had experience with that sort of thing, the boys find it easier to trust me and are willing to actually work at their lessons.” 

“I’m sure those boys appreciate that you make time for them,” Draco opined, reminiscing to his own relationships with male role models in his teen years. “I had my father and Uncle Severus, of course, but I would have killed to have someone to that cared about me like that when I was in school. I—” Draco paused to debate whether his next words would be received well or not. Historically, Potter hadn’t been particularly receptive to Draco’s sympathy. “I’m sorry you didn’t get that chance, Potter.” 

“All we can do now is be the sort of fathers we deserved,” Harry said, cocking his head slightly as he regarded Draco with a boyish smile. “And clearly you’re doing exactly that, because Scorpius is a great kid. We’re glad Albie chose such a kind and thoughtful person to be his friend.” 

_That_ comment hit Draco like a punch to the gut. To hear his son be referred to with words like “kind” and “thoughtful” was the greatest compliment he could receive as a father. And he agreed – when Draco wasn’t denying the boy the opportunity to attend pool parties, Scorpius was generous and selfless, doing anything and everything he could to help other kids feel included and appreciated. 

“He—he’s a good lad,” Draco choked out, turning his gaze down towards the counter so that Harry wouldn’t see the tears welling in his eyes. Draco almost always got emotional when thinking about what a fantastic child Scorpius was, because he didn’t deserve it. He had been a shit to most of the kids he’d attended school with – had bullied them, attacked their insecurities, all because he had been insecure himself. A bastard such as himself deserved an absolute hellion of a child, but instead, he’d been entrusted with Scorpius. 

Harry and Draco were silent then, both losing themselves in their thoughts as they sat together at the island. Harry had set out a glass of water for his blond companion a few minutes before, but it hadn’t even been touched yet. Draco had almost worked up the courage to continue their conversation when a freckly woman with her hair up in a messy bun opened the back door and poked her head into the kitchen. It had been some time since last they met, but Draco recognized her immediately as Ginny Weasley, the mother of Potter’s three children. 

“Sorry to break up this _fascinating_ chat, gents,” she teased, “But would either or both of you be able to come out and supervise the swimmers? I forgot to pick up that ice cream cake I ordered for the party, so I have to make a quick run into town.” 

“Sure thing, Gin,” Harry replied, gesturing towards the door with his head as he stood up, encouraging Malfoy to follow him out into the back garden. 

“Oh, and Draco, Scorpius has just arrived,” Ginny informed him. “Astoria forgot to pack his swim trunks apparently, so Albie is going to lend him a pair of his for the afternoon.” 

“Bloody fucking— she had _one job_ ,” Draco growled under his breath. Harry grimaced sympathetically, understanding that the dynamic between Draco and his ex was far from friendly. “I’ll make he extends his gratitude to Albus for sharing, but thank _you_ as well, Ginevra. I’ll wash them when we get home tonight and have them back to you tomorrow.” 

“It’s no problem, really,” Harry assured him, giving Draco’s shoulder a firm squeeze. “Albie is more than happy to share. The kid’s probably got more swimwear than he knows what to do with. He’s got whatever Gin’s bought him, plus James’ hand-me-downs. Proper spoilt, these kids are.” 

As they stepped out of the house and crossed the wooden deck, Draco caught sight of his son, whose blond hair reflected sunlight like snow. He waved covertly at the boy, but received no such subtlety in return. 

_Perhaps he’s not so embarrassed of me as he’d like me to believe,_ Draco thought with a smile. 

“ _Bonjour, Papa_ ,” Scorpius said, racing over to his father. Draco wrapped an arm around his son’s shoulders and ruffled his hair as he drew him in close. 

“ _Ça va, mon chou?_ ” Draco inquired, raising an eyebrow as he took in the boy’s bright pink cheeks, and the subtle freckles smattered across the bridge of his nose. “Someone needs to put on his sun cream, hmm?” 

“Papa, don’t call me that here,” Scorpius scolded his father, trying but failing to wrestle his way out of Draco’s firm hold. “It’s embarrassing. And yes to the sun cream – Al’s brother has gone to grab some, I think.” 

“Oh, so my love is embarrassing you?” Draco asked with a smirk. “My apologies, I’ll keep it all to myself in the future.” Scorpius ignored the teasing remark, but both father and son knew that the boy secretly appreciated his father’s attention and endearments, even if it was a little sappy. 

Just then, Albus Potter surprised the pair by crashing headlong into them, earning a heavy grunt from Draco, who had essentially taken a head-butt directly to his liver. 

“Sorry, Mr. Malfoy!” Albus gasped, covering his face with his hands. “Sorry, sorry, sorry, I didn’t realize Scorp was so close to you, or I never would have—” 

“I’m alright, Albus,” Draco said, wincing slightly. “Don’t worry, I know you were just playing.” He set a hand atop the heads of each boy, turned them towards the back door, and encouraged them with a little push to go put on their swim trunks and sun cream so they might take a dip in the pool. 

When the boys had run off together, Draco set a hand against his stomach and poked around carefully, ensuring that all his internal organs were still in place. He hadn’t taken a hit like that in quite a while, and though he was much larger than 12-year-old Albus, it still hurt like hell to have a child’s hard skull rammed into his abdomen. 

“Sorry about that, Malfoy,” Harry murmured, appearing at Draco’s shoulder with a green bottle, chilled and dripping with condensation. “Al’s got too much energy today for some reason, but I hope he’ll wear himself out in the pool. He could use a good night’s sleep, that one.” 

“It’s no problem,” Draco promised, taking a sip of the beer he’d been given. “I’ve had far worse.” 

The pair stood at the poolside and made small talk, both scanning the water to ensure the safety of the kids sloshing water in each other’s faces. Draco recognized two dark, curly-haired children that must be Ron and Hermione’s, as well as a few of Scorpius’ classmates. 

“Are you planning to swim today?” Harry asked, watching as Scorpius and Albus took turns doing cannonballs off the low diving board. 

“Probably not.” 

“Not a big swimmer?” 

“Well—” Draco hesitated, struggling to decide whether or not to tell Potter the truth. The man’s green eyes regarded Draco curiously as he waited, and eventually the story just poured right out. “Scorp nearly died after a drowning incident at the beach when he was little, so I tend to work myself into a strop every time he goes near any body of water now. It’ll probably be best if I just stay up here and supervise.” To his surprise, Draco felt a weight lift from his shoulders as he told Harry the tale. 

“I can understand why this would make you nervous,” Harry said, setting a comforting hand against Draco’s shoulder blade. “Lily had to get stitches in her foot once, and I almost passed out, so I can’t even imagine how scared you must have been for Scorp.” 

“I want him to be able to have fun with other kids, but I have to admit, I really didn’t want him to come today,” Draco told his companion. “He said it wasn’t cool of me to insist on coming along, but I knew if I just sat around at home, I would have gone insane with worry. His arm gets funny sometimes, and he can’t predict when it will be fine or when it won’t…” He trailed off, realizing that his heart was starting to race at the very thought of his son’s arm seizing up in the water. 

“Scorp might not think it’s cool, but I’m glad you came,” Harry said, his voice soft and sincere. He set a hand against Malfoy’s arm in reassurance. “I know we’ve had our differences, Malfoy, but we’ve both changed a lot since we were in school. Our kids are best friends, so there’s no reason why we can’t try to be friends as well.” 

“You would do that?” Draco asked, chewing his bottom lip as he considered Harry’s proposal. “Be friends with me, that is?” 

“Sure, why not?” Harry shrugged. “You don’t seem like a judgemental twat anymore, and I’ve learned to control my anger and stop breaking shit when I get upset. I figure that means we can give it a go, don’t you?” 

“I’m sorry,” Draco offered instead, not making eye contact with Harry. He watched as Scorpius showed Albus his underwater handstand. “I was unkind to you and your friends, and I made assumptions, and I let my father’s opinions and beliefs influence my behaviour. I understand if you can’t forgive the things I’ve said to you and your friends in the past, but please know that I’m a different man today than I was 15 years ago.” 

“I know you are,” Harry murmured, his eyes crinkling slightly at the corners. “Hermione told me about all the initiatives you’ve made in your company to be inclusive and culturally sensitive, and that’s something you never would have done before.” A curious smirk tugged at the corner of Harry’s lips at his next words. “And I know you’re a huge supporter of the food bank, and the homeless shelter, _and_ my youth centre.” At this, Draco turned to the man beside him with wide eyes. 

“How could you know about any of that?” Draco demanded in a hissing whisper. “I made those donations anonymously for a reason.” 

“Astoria’s made mention of it once or twice,” Harry admitted with a shake of his head. “You might not want it to change the way people see you, but she doesn’t mind a bit that her name is attached to your good deeds.” 

“She needs to go back to using her maiden name,” Draco grouched, folding his arms across his chest. “If she had her way, all of that money would go towards liquor and hors d’oeurves for all the glitzy parties she insists on hosting for her posh _friends_.” Malfoy’s snarky tone told Harry exactly where Draco thought his ex-wife’s friends could stick their hoity-toity attitudes. 

“So you’re done with that lifestyle, then?” Harry wondered. “No more Malfoy Manor for you?” This earned Harry a disdainful grimace. Draco hadn’t been back to his parents’ estate in Wiltshire since just before his divorce. 

“Scorpius and I live in a flat,” Draco said by way of explanation. “It’s just the two of us, and we have no need for all that space. My father may not agree with the choices I’ve made, but I have Scorpius’ wellbeing to consider. I’m raising him to be humble and kind and respectful in all the ways I never was.” 

“He will be,” Harry assured Draco, tapping his finger against the ink wrapped around the blond man’s forearm. “This says it all.” 

The tattoo Draco had received at 16 – a skull with a snake for a tongue – now looked entirely different than it had when Harry had known Draco in their youth. It was surrounded by a garden’s-worth of colourful flowers: gladiolus, carnations, orchids, aster, peonies, amaryllis, daffodils, lilies and iris, with a beautiful narcissus for his mother, and a single gardenia for Scorpius. The original tattoo was still visible, as a way for Draco to remember the past to which he never wanted to return, but the flowers were a daily reminder that he had grown and changed, and had built a beautiful and happy life for Scorpius and himself. 

Harry hadn’t withdrawn his hand from Draco’s forearm yet, and the warmth of his fingers against Draco’s tattooed skin sent a delightful tingling sensation rippling through the nerves in Malfoy’s arm. They glanced up in tandem and both leaned in a fraction of an inch, moving as though one were a reflection of the other. Harry’s eyes flickered down to Draco’s lips, made soft and pink by a run of his tongue along them. They watched each other, frozen in time, as though they weren’t standing in the middle of Potter’s bustling yard at a pool party they had been tasked with supervising. 

Draco yelped as a sudden gush of frigid water exploded on the back of his neck. It dribbled down his back, soaking the light blue button-up tee he had purchased just for this occasion. He turned around slowly to find an unamused Scorpius, who presented his father with the plastic shreds of a water balloon. 

“What did I say about flirting with peoples’ dads?” Scorpius demanded, setting his hands on his hips. Albus stood beside a sopping wet Harry, clutching a now-empty bucket. “This is a kids party, Papa. If you want to make goo-goo eyes at someone, do it another day!” Draco stared at his son, unsure of what one was supposed to say in this situation. 

“Where did you find water balloons, Al?” Harry asked Albus, his voice deadly quiet. 

“Uhh…Mum and Aunt ‘Mione are filling them up over at the spigot,” Albus told his father, backing away slowly. He had noticed the glimmer of mischief in Harry’s eyes, and he was smart enough to know that whatever his father was planning, he wanted to be far away when the plan came to fruition. He and Scorpius had painted targets on their backs without considering the consequences. 

“Boys, I would leave now, if I were you,” Draco suggested, glancing between his son and Potters. The boys both let out a screech of laughter before tearing off across the yard, nearly knocking over a number of Albus’ young cousins along the way. 

“Teddy, would you mind supervising the pool, please?” Harry called across the way. A young man with teal hair was stretched out on a lounger on the other side of the pool, but at the sound of Harry’s voice, he tossed a thumbs-up in their direction and took his place at the edge of the pool, scanning the water dutifully. 

Harry and Draco crossed the garden and joined the pair of women who were in the process of filling a large yellow bucket with a rainbow of pastel-hued water balloons. They had about a third of a bucket filled, but that wouldn’t last long; there was nearly a school bus’-worth of kids, from toddlers up to teens, and most would probably join in once balloons started flying. It was pleasantly hot by this point in the day, so those who hadn’t yet taken a dip in the pool would surely find a bit of relief in having a plastic ball of water explode against their faces. _Or not,_ but that was half the fun of it. 

“If we give you a hand, ladies, I’m sure we can have this bucket filled in no time,” Harry suggested. Ginny passed him a full bag of balloons and a faucet adapter to share with Draco, and suggested they use the kitchen sink instead of fighting them for the garden spigot. 

“Try not to get too distracted, boys,” Hermione called after them in a singsong voice. “There’ll be time enough to flirt to your hearts’ content after the party.” Both men hurried across the garden and into the house to avoid any further comments on their lack of subtlety from observant women and children. 

* * * * * 

Hermione was responsible for arranging the water games for the party. The water balloons had been stowed in the house for safekeeping, as they weren’t to be used until later. That hadn’t stopped Harry for sneaking out two of the largest balloons – one for him and one for Draco – which were used to pay their sons back for their earlier prank. 

The first game was played in two teams, with each team lined up in front of an empty (but clean) rubbish bin filled with water. The person at the front of the line had to dunk a large sponge into the bin, soak up as much water as possible, and then pass it through their legs to the person behind them. That person would pass it over their head to the next person, who then passed through their legs, and so on and so on. When the sopping sponge reached the last person in the line, it was to be squeezed out into an empty bucket, and then run back to the front of the line for the next round. The winners would be the team that filled their empty bucket first. 

Harry and Draco were on opposing teams, and were the only adults to supervise this activity. They were both competitive by nature, so they did their best as team captains to encourage the kids on their team to get the sponge down the line as fast as possible. The younger children had a bit of a tough time, as they weren’t as coordinated as their older siblings, and eventually the game devolved into Harry and Draco soaking their sponges and wringing them out over the heads of their delighted teammates. Everyone was good and wet by the end of it. 

For the next water activity, Hermione had tasked her twin brothers-in-law with setting up a slip-n-slide. She regretted this immediately, because instead of laying the tarp out where she had suggested, the twins brought a tarp that spanned a majority of the garden, and ended in the pool. Because the yard was graded higher on the edges of the property, when the kids would run down the water and dish-soap slicked tarp, they were propelled at high speed downhill, where they fell into the Potters pool in a bubbly mess. Ginny had realized her brothers’ error (well-thought out prank) when she realized that her pool was starting to resemble a bubble bath, but by that point it was too late to do anything about it. 

“We’ll just have to drain the pool,” Harry told Draco once the pair had taken their turn down the slippery runway. They tread water together in the middle of the pool, ensuring all the little ones made it safely out of the water after their turn on the slide. 

Once the kids had tired of the slide, Albus clambered up onto Draco’s shoulders and Scorpius onto Harry’s, and the four played a violent game of chicken in the pool. The boys screamed as they attempted to push each other into the water, but with their fathers holding tightly to their legs, neither was unseated – that is, until Draco waltzed right into Harry’s space and planted a smacking kiss on his cheek, prompting Potter to reach out and yank Malfoy into a tight hug. 

“GROSS!” Albus and Scorpius yelled, diving off the men’s shoulders to get away from the display of affection. Once they were free of their sons, Harry attached himself like a leach to Draco’s back and looped his legs around the taller man’s waist, insisting that he be taken for a piggy back ride around the perimeter of the pool at least twice. 

“I can’t believe I’ve sullied myself with a man who acts like an actual 3-year-old,” Draco bemoaned his lot in life (or at least, his lot at the pool party). 

“Cheer up, Malfoy,” Harry said, laughing. “You can take a turn next, alright?” 

“Absolutely not,” Draco sniffed, lying through his teeth. 

After the girls had turned the hose on full-blast and used it as a water-based skipping rope for a bit, Hermione gathered the children for the last game before the water balloon fight. Everyone was to pair up and face their partner in a line, and one partner would receive a water balloon. The objective of the game was to toss the balloon to your partner each time Hermione yelled “GO!”, and if they caught it, both team members would take a small step back. The last pair standing (and presumably, the pair that was the furthest distance apart) would win. 

“I think we’ll sit this one out, Hermione,” Harry chuckled, boldly assuming that he and Draco were sure to win the game just because they were adults. 

“Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure of yourself,” she warned, quirking an eyebrow at her friend in challenge. “It takes good communication and teamwork to win the balloon toss.” Draco wasn’t fooled into competing, because he had brought his brain along to the party today, but Harry was instantly up in arms at the insinuation that he wouldn’t be able to show up a bunch of 8-year-olds in a simple game of catch. 

“Alright, let’s go, then,” Harry insisted, holding out a hand to drag Draco up from the ground. 

“Potter, do we really—” He protested, but was ignored and promptly yanked to his feet. They took their place in the line, and on Hermione’s mark, began to pass their balloon back and forth. 

“Right. So this is like a delicate baby bird egg, Malfoy,” Harry said, deadly serious. “If you drop it, you’ll have murdered an innocent creature before it even had the chance to fly.” Draco caught the pink balloon in both hands, cupping it as if his hands were a nest. 

“Please tell me you’re not explaining how to throw and catch a _balloon_ right now, Potter,” Draco complained, tossing the jiggling sphere back to Harry. “I’m 36 years old – I’m quite certain I can figure it out.” 

Three turns later, the pair sat on the edge of the deck, glowering straight ahead and watching the line of children as they continued the game. Harry’s vest top was wet and Draco was refusing to talk to him. Albus and Scorpius were doing fancy through-the-legs and overhand tosses, going so far as to include spins in their little routine. They looked as though they might be the winners of the game. 

“I may have been an orphan, but I’m definitely putting Albus up for adoption if he wins,” Harry said sullenly. “It wasn’t that bad.” 

Draco ignored him. 

“But hey, looks like Scorp’s arm is behaving today,” Harry said, perking up a bit. “He swam in the pool and everything. I know he was nervous that he’d wake up this morning and find that he couldn’t do much with it, but luck was on his side!” 

“Luck, and the fact that he’s worked his arse off in therapy,” Draco nodded, watching his son more closely. The blond boy’s cheeks were rosy, and his eyes sparkled as he and Al kept up their trick shots with the balloon. He was using his right hand as much as his left, and didn’t seem to be struggling at the moment, which he agreed was good. _‘One day at a time’_ had been their motto as of late. 

“You’re a bloody good dad,” Harry said, scooping up Draco’s hand with his own and twining their fingers together. “Scorp talks about you all the time, and it’s clear he adores you.” 

“You’re not half bad yourself,” Draco murmured, smiling up at his friend. “We must be decent – our kids are fucking brilliant.” 

“They really are, aren’t they,” Harry sighed, setting his and Draco’s clasped hands atop his knee. The two men watched their children quietly, enjoying each other’s company, the lovely weather, and the fact that they were surrounded by good people they cared for, and that cared for them in return. 

* * * * * 

After dinner was over and everyone had left, Harry and Draco stood on the deck and surveyed the damage done to the back garden. Water balloon shrapnel was scattered everywhere, a rainbow film of soap mingled with the pool water, and four exhausted children – one blond, two brunettes, and a redhead – were asleep with their arms and legs sprawled out starfish-style on the only dry patch of grass. 

“Huh,” Harry hummed, more to himself than anyone else, holding Draco against him with an arm around the blond’s shoulders. “So this is why Gin said the party had to be on _my_ weekend with the kids.” 

The party had been a beautiful disaster, and the perfect way for Harry and Draco to start things over again.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks also to crimsonheadache for the prompt. Hope you enjoyed the fic!


End file.
